Hush
by Aurona X
Summary: "Ichigo Kurosaki was currently centimeters from a full body tango with the Princess of Karakura." - Smut. Ichihime. Rated M


"Kurosaki-kun..?" Her voice was as sweet as honey. Curious.

His breath fanned over the back of her neck as he bowed his head, thoroughly inhaling her scent. The heat her body gave off almost _burned_ through his shirt and jeans, but he felt as though he couldn't get close enough. _Never_ close enough.

If he moved just a fraction of an inch closer, that delectable rear of hers would press right against his hips. And he wanted it.

All night he had watched her waltz about without a care, clad in sinfully form fitting jeans and a deep brown flowing top that was tied with a dark ribbon around the waist. Tied into a _bow_. A beautiful gift he had _no business_ even touching.

But touch he did.

His hands had drifted over her shoulders, smoothed over the dip of her waist, and now came to rest upon her hips. And he could feel himself struggle to reign in the sliver of control he still had left that was keeping him from taking the poor, _very confused_ beauty against the wall.

How sick was that?

 _Yes_. He, Ichigo Kurosaki was currently centimeters from a full body tango with the Princess of Karakura. And he would be damned if he wasn't feeling conflicted at the moment. They were _friends_. And friends _did not_ pin one another up against the wall of their apartment under any situation.

The night had been a simple outing between all of them to celebrate the end of their final High School year. And yet the whole damn time all he could do was watch her and struggle against himself.

It wasn't that she was being terribly provocative, and in fact that wasn't even entirely what this was about. For _years_ he had been nursing a crush on the gentle healer, and for _years_ he had almost refused to act on it. And now that High School was over, he was struck with the overwhelming thought that this would most likely be one of the last times they would all be together.

That _he_ would walk her home. Because soon, when they all went their separate ways, some _other_ guy would walk her home. And it would be well within his right to, because she would _love_ him.

Inoue would never see anything like that in him. He knew that. He understood it. He was nothing but a man with blood on his hands. The War had done well in dirtying him, and he accepted it. He was too tainted for her. She could never think of him as more than a friend - which he was lucky for in the first place.

He didn't like it one damn bit.

And here he was, pressing the poor girl up against the wall of her apartment after _chivalrously_ offering to walk her home. Perhaps he could have gotten away with it, and really should have. Just walking her home was not an issue at all, as he did it quite often. How many nights had he walked her home from work, school, Though, in hindsight, that itself was the issue.

It had started innocently enough, his attraction. A simple fluttering feeling that grew from a tiny spark to a full forest fire. And he had valiantly protected her from said fire for the past seven months.

And then she invited him in for _tea_.

It was needless to say the second her apartment door was closed and locked, his senses were locked up with it. All it took was her turning her head, allowing the soft auburn locks to fan out and send the scent of coconut and strawberries in his direction; stunning his senses for a full five seconds.

And his heart _ached_.

In one swift movement, he had her up against the pure white paint beside her coat rack.

And if she would just stop _wiggling_ like that, he would be able to pull away.

Calloused fingers slid under the flowing shirt of hers as he slowly memorized the feeling of her smooth unblemished skin on his own. Her hips were full, but she was so tiny in comparison to him. A single hand wondered, sliding along her navel before dipping downward to slip under the band of her jeans with his right index finger. All the way down, between her hip bones.

She trembled, a sharp inhale coming passing through her lips so quickly he almost didn't catch it.

 _She liked that..?_

And Kami he wouldn't stop doing what she liked. He didn't have the willpower. He was taking advantage of her sweetness, and the fact that she wasn't pulling away was going to his head. There could be a million reasons she wasn't pulling away, and only one of them involved love. The most probable involved lust.

Could Orihime Inoue lust after someone? And could that someone possibly be _him_ , even if only for a night?

His thumb traced smooth circles under her navel, his ring finger slowly inching further as his fingers spread. Now he closed his eyes, letting his forehead fall to her shoulder as he listened intently for that sound again.

And he got one better, as his hand slid down further to cup between her thighs.

 _Kami... she's... she's_ wet _..._

He could _hear_ her heart skip a beat, and feel her legs shift as she attempted to keep her modesty in what could have been the worst way of going about it. Shutting her legs tight was about the only right way to start, but trying to hide herself further by sticking her rear outward?

The silky, whimpering sound she made when she came into contact with the bulge under his own jeans was almost enough to make him bust his zipper.

"K-Kurosa..." His arm slid around her tiny waist, tugging her soft frame up against combat hardened muscles. The action effectively silenced her, producing a blush he could almost _feel_ radiate from her cheeks due to their proximity.

As his nose skimmed the soft skin along her neck, inhaling her scent but not tasting her skin no matter how tempted he might have been. It would break him. If she was this perfect to touch, her taste would drive him to insanity.

He was selfish.

It had been months since the Winter War. Months since this strange and new feeling started. He had seen her at school, at her work, on the street, or on the field exterminating hollows and not once had he _not_ felt a desire for her. It was as though a switch flipped, and she was in the center of his perverse universe.

How many nights had he woken up in a sweat, needing to take a shower but unable to do so? How many nights had he seen her so vividly in his dreams - doing things that would make nun faint in horror - and woken up _nearly forgetting_ they were only _dreams._ The amount of times he had almost swept her into a kiss during lunch was maddening.

He was sick and he knew it. The thought had his hand stopping, his fingers so close to entering her warmth that he began to tremble in anticipation.

"Kami..." His voice was thick and harsh. "Kami Inoue... I'm sorry..."

Yet he made no move to let go, if anything tightening his hold on her as though prepared for her to try to make a dash for it. He couldn't let her. Not now that he was so close. Not now that he was _finally_ touching her.

"Kuro-"

"Please..." He cut her off, shutting his eyes as he drew her in closer. "Please... Inoue... just... Kami even if you hate me. Even if it means I'll never see you again..."

He dug his fingertips into her hip as he withdrew his hand, holding her as tight as he dared knowing full well how strong he was in comparison. He could physically shatter her with a flick of his wrist, but she could demolish him with a single unknowing word.

"Even if it means you have to pretend... pretend you _want_ me." He spat the word out so harshly he felt her jump in his arms. A tiny part of himself in the far corner of his mind was screaming at him; the situation was insane. Crazy. Sudden.

"Inoue..."

A trembling hand placed itself upon his own, and he felt his heart come to a screeching halt in his chest. Of course. She would never. His arms dropped, as his jaw locked in place. Though he had never expected... never dreamed... It didn't hurt any less than the fact that-

 _No way..._

And yet, there she was giving his hand a tiny tug. So, soft, so gentle he almost missed the action. Her eyes were downcast, and her cheeks pink. Her skin caught the soft light from the moon casted through the window, giving her a heavenly glow only she could obtain. Her curves were highlighted by the shadows of the night, defined with every tiny shift of movement.

"I..." She seemed to be struggling to speak, and he took pity on her by placing his hand over her mouth. Wide, silver grey eyed met brown. He was lost, allowing her to gently guide him through her apartment. He didn't watch where he was going, so captured by her in this moment.

 _She couldn't be..._

Her hand dropped his own, moving to shakily attempt to unbutton her jeans.

 _Mother of sin..._

He didn't care if this was pity, which it _had_ to be, all he cared about was that it was happening. And he would be damned if he had no part in the removal of her clothing. So, with a single step forward he took her back into his arms, his fingers smoothly flicking open and hooking in the waistline of her jeans.

And to his surprise they were easy to remove. What looked to have been painted on her legs fell away easily, and miles of pale skin was revealed to his eyes.

Her thighs were perfect for his hands, he mused. Toned, but soft. Her feet were small, pixie like. Every slight curve exactly where it ought to be.

"Beautiful..." He found himself whispering, before suddenly being struck with just how that sounded and snapping his gaze back up to her own. Her shyness was ever present, along with that same burning curiosity. But there was also something else in their depths he couldn't quite place. Whatever it was, it made his stomach flip.

His hands peeled his shirt from his torso, glad to be rid of the suddenly confining cloth. Although another part of him was feeling far more contained, he swore he would savor this moment. It would be the only time. It would also possibly be the last time he spoke to her. Surely, she would hate him. This was only because she was kind. Loving.

 _Inoue._

Her cheeks were a beautiful shade of pink, fingers fiddling with the hem of her top. He placed his own hands upon hers, gently guiding them up, up, and up until her top hung limply from her fingers over her head.

It fell to the ground with a soft, barely there _thump_ that neither of them heard.

His hands tangled with her own, drawing her in until his bare chest pressed against the soft cotton of her baby blue bra. Their fingers locked together, forearms pressing as his head lowered until his orange locks brushed against her forehead.

He was surprised by the look of awe in her eyes as she gazed up at him, nearly having to crane her head back to do so. Her long eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she blinked once, and then twice. And he was struck yet again with just how different they were.

Had she always looked so delicate?

He had never wanted to kiss her more than in this moment.

So, he did.

Kami all mighty he had never expected her lips to be so soft, so _willing_ under his own. It was staggering. The person she must have been imagining was one lucky son of a bitch. It almost made him hiss in jealousy.

He refused to let the thoughts plague him.

Unhooking her bra was easier than he thought it would be. And when it slid off her arms and onto the ground, allowing their skin to finally touch he knew already that it would be hard not to savor this night.

Her hands found their way to the back of his neck, timidly pulling him closer as their lips molded together and moved with a perfect synchronization. He had always thought that if they would kiss, she would be frozen. And yet she was just as active as he was, only shy in her movements.

He hadn't realized he was backing her toward her bed until her knees hit it, and he found himself hovering over her as though he were a predator about to make a kill.

Keeping himself up with his arms, he gazed down at her with what could only be described as wonder. She was young, but she had the body of a woman. A beautiful, beautiful woman. Her breasts were large, waist narrow, hips full, and her ass pure perfection.

 _I might be an ass man..._ He remarked internally, a flicker of humor appearing in his otherwise heated train of thought.

He used one hand to remove his jeans, at the same time bowing his head to trail slow kisses down from her collar bone to the gentle slope of her breasts. By the time the denim hit the floor, he was certain he was harder than he had ever been in his life. He was also certain he was the first person to gain such reactions from the girl beneath him. The soft yet labored breaths, and the whimpers of poorly hidden arousal.

Yes, he was the first.

His tongue slid over the soft flesh of her breast, gliding over her nipple, and raising a startled squeak from her lips. He found himself looking at her with what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. _He_ caused those sounds.

"I-... I need..." His thumb slid over her lips, effectively silencing her with a quiet " _hush_ ". There was no doubt what she was going to say; especially as she looked at him with such a heated gaze.

His hand returned to his boxers, yanking them down far enough for them to slide to his ankles and be kicked off to the side. It was obvious she could tell what he did, though she seemed to make it a point not to look down. Her cheeks betrayed her thoughts however, as they always did.

His index finger found the hem of her panties and without hesitation slid them down, off her ankles and onto the floor. Her thighs shut themselves tightly, knees curling as though to hide what was left of her decency. Her nails were digging crescent marks into the back of his neck, but he hardly noticed.

"It's ok..." He soothed, placing a tanned hand upon her knee. Her body jumped from the contact, eyes widening slightly. Yet as he pushed it, her legs fell apart willingly to reveal a small patch of auburn curls and a glistening wetness on her thighs.

His hand left her knee, fingertips trailing up the inside of her thigh without any form of hesitation before his index softly ran along her center. The action had her toes curling, though he did nothing but simply brush the sensitive skin. It peeked his curiosity, and with only a few small passes, his finger slid inside.

The effect was instant on the healer. Her eyes widened and her lips parted in a surprised gasp. And he became aware of one more thing to aid his ego.

She had never touched herself.

Of course, she hadn't. Orihime Inoue, touching herself? It was an impossibility. And yet it was also impossible that he would be here, touching her. Easing her into a comfortable state to do what every man who had ever laid eyes on her dreamed of.

His arm curled around her, hand splaying itself on her lower back to shift her hips at just the right angle, drawing a feminine moan from her lips. And then quickly add another to her already tight folds.

"Breathe, Hime..." He barely recognized his own voice, but she seemed to. She took in a shaking breath, legs spreading and hips rising to meet the short thrusts of his fingers. Her head tossed back, hitting her sheets softly as she let out yet another sound of pleasure.

Now, he was against all forms of cannibalism. But never had he ever wanted to devour someone like he wanted to do to her.

He restrained himself by some miracle, knowing the poor girl would be far too embarrassed for that. He was already the luckiest man in the world.

Removing his fingers now slickened with her juices, he ran them along his shaft. The shiver at the warmth her substance gave off had his lips curling into a smirk. He made her that wet. His actions. Him.

Maybe he would consume her yet.

He rose to hover over her, holding himself with his forearms as he knelt between her legs. He dove down for one more kiss, savoring her taste and the feeling of her nails slide sizzling hot trails down the length of his biceps to his forearms.

He entered her before he fully knew what he was doing.

The yelp of pain caused him to freeze in his tracks, very nearly shattering his lust induced haze as he saw her face contort into pain. Unknowingly she squeezed his length, and his arms almost gave out.

"Fuck..." The single word escaped his lips, hushed but at the same time loud.

The muscles of his back ached as he tried to keep himself still, waiting for her to relax. And for the longest time he was worried she wouldn't be able to, but when she finally did it was followed with the softest roll of her own hips toward his.

"O-Oh!" She inhaled, obviously not expecting what he hadn't expected either. Such a simple movement caused such amazing friction! It had been short, but it had been the definition of delicious.

He couldn't stop himself from withdrawing and easing himself in; an experimental move that elicited a moan from her petal soft lips. His answering moan vibrated through his chest, his fingers grasping the sheets on her bed in a vice. Again, his hips moved. Just a little faster. A little harder.

A flow began. He would thrust forward, and her hips would rise to meet his. Their moans of ecstasy mixed, her more feminine and his more guttural. Yet he hadn't heard anything more perfect.

He gradually began to speed up his thrusts, encouraged as she attempted to muffle her moans in his chest. Her warm breath on his skin urged him even further, thrusting harder just to see what she would do to get closer. To hear her make more of those noises he wrung from her.

Her hands seemed to not know where to rest. They would move from his shoulders, to the back of his neck, to his biceps, to snake around and dig her nails into the muscle of his back. Every thrust had them moving, trailing over his skin with a feather light but searing touch. He could feel her warmth tighten, a pool of heat filling him fast.

His thrusts slowed, though it was almost painful to do so. Would this end when they reached their peak? Would she demand he leave and never return?

Without thought his hips bucked forward suddenly, almost aggressively. Her eyes shot open, and what had to be the most feminine cry of pleasure escaped her. Her walls trembled around his length, and he knew he was keeping this gentle creature on the edge of oblivion. For once, she was in _his_ power.

With one final thrust she fell apart in his arms, but he did not stop. He continued as she unraveled around him; until her hands found a place that for some reason cast him from his own cliff after her.

His face. Those delicate hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as the tips of her fingers hid in his wild spikes of orange. He had never felt such a gentle touch. And he most certainly never thought he would receive the look her eyes were bestowing upon him. Or the words her lips formed.

 _I love you..._

Softly, their lips connected once more. He made no move to distance himself, instead wrapping his arms around her and lifting her up onto his lap. His hold on her was unshakeable. An Espada could try and wrestle her from him right now and he would not relent.

"Hime..." His voice was hoarse as he found himself clinging to her, cheek pressing against her collar bone.

"Ichigo-kun..." His name fell off her lips like a prayer, and were he not already on his knees it would have brought him to them. The first time she had spoken his name. And it sounded beautiful.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

She smoothed her fingers through his hair, and he felt her press a soft kiss to the top of his head. And still, he couldn't stop himself.

"Hime..." He found there to be an odd burning sensation behind his eyes, and he squeezed them shut in an attempt to stop the inevitable.

"It's OK..." She whispered softly, gentle arms sliding around his shoulders to hold him close. As though to hide him. Keep him as much as he yearned to keep her. And in that moment, it seemed possible. So, possible it stunned him. And so, he repeated the words she had so quietly spoken to him. Words every fiber of his being told him he would never hear in a million years.

And once again, she turned his world around.

"I love you."


End file.
